


My Body Needs to Feed

by justwantedtodance



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, Infected Emma, Infected Paul, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Apotheosis (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals), Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwantedtodance/pseuds/justwantedtodance
Summary: Based on my inability to hear lyrics correctly, here's what could have happened immediately after "Inevitable."
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	My Body Needs to Feed

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, it's another post-canon smut fic, I'm aware. I know y'all are itching to call me out on it 😂
> 
> Enjoy!

“No, somebody help! Let me go!” Emma screams to any sympathetic ear, but none can be found inside the hospital, the soldiers, nurses, and other members of the Hive harmonizing obliviously in tune with her frantic cries for help.

Paul, or what remains of him, just laughs, though it sounds nothing like the endearing, awkward one she heard back at Beanie’s. On the outside, he may look like the same man who stumbled over ordering a black coffee, but he’s not a man at all inside anymore. He’s one of _them_ ; an alien. “You know I can’t do that, Emma.”

He breaks away from the rest of the group dragging a limping Emma with him into a secluded room. “Where are you taking me?”

“We have to get ready for the show, sweetheart.” Emma starts to shout a curse at him but is immediately cut off by Paul’s hand clamping around her mouth. He slams her back against the wall, trapping her there with his body. “Stop fighting, Emma. You know you’ll give in one way or another.”

Emma scoffs as she peels his hand from her mouth. “Fat chance.”

She steps on one of his feet and sends her knee to his groin to make her escape. Driving her foot into his feels like pressure at best, though her well-aimed kick sends him stumbling back a few steps, though it isn’t enough to inflict any pain. The chorus in Paul’s mind orders him to fight back; she won’t get away this time. He tugs at his tie to help him breathe as the Hive’s continual shouts cause him to sweat even while standing idle. Emma does her best to make a break for the door, but by the time she reaches it, Paul yanks her back by her hair, forcing a yelp from her lips.

What’s left of Paul Matthews protests what he’s doing to her. He doesn’t want to have to use any force against her, but the Hive wants what it wants, and what it _needs_ is its queen to take her rightful place, which can’t be done with her struggling. The instability in her legs and Paul’s iron grip in her hair forces Emma to her knees, and it’s all too easy to pin her on her back with her wrists on either side of her head. His solid weight on top of her, she’s trapped.

Emma dares to open her eyes when she feels the cold drip of blue goo on her chin and frantically shuts them again. His eyes electric cerulean, swirling with hunger and lust, any semblance of Paul she might have seen before is ousted by the king of the Hive gone mad.

“Paul, please don’t do this, please,” Emma begs, trying to coax any humanity out of his extraterrestrial soul. She whimpers when his hand closes around her throat, and though she fights to dislodge him, it’s no use.

The last thing she hears before she loses consciousness is his repeated refrain low and sweet in her ear. “Emma, I’m sorry, you lost…”

* * *

She doesn’t know if it’s minutes, hours, or days later; all she knows is that whoever is running fingers through her hair and humming the warmest melody in her ear deserves a fat fucking raise. Emma opens her eyes, still hazy from the exhaustion of earlier events, and shifts back to find a body encircling hers. The hum deepens into a moan, and a pair of lips press against her head. She lifts her hands to her throat when she feels a tickle begin to rise up. Though it’s not entirely unpleasant, she has the urge to cough, but a song comes out instead.

“What the hell is this?”

“Hi, Emma.”

She knows that singing voice and immediately stiffens. “Paul.”

He halts his movements opting to speak to her instead. “Are you not happy to see me, Em?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” He drops his lips down to her ear, and he slowly trails a line of kisses along the curve as he whispers, “Tell me, how can I make you happy?”

Warmth stirs in her stomach, even as his cold hands caress the curve of her arm. It’s been so long since she’s been kissed like this, touched even. In her infrequent romantic encounters of late, she’s always been the one to do the seducing, never being seduced. But now, the tables have turned. This man, who she wouldn’t have ever thought to have a sexual bone in his body, is making her breathing shallow and pulse throb in her neck.

She makes a choked sound like she’s about to start a plea but can’t find the right words. Paul hums in question and urges her to finish her thought as he slips his hand around her waist.

“I… I want…”

Paul takes the skin of her ear between his teeth, gently but provocatively, and asks, “What do you want, Emma?”

Damn it all to hell. Trying to resist the urge that’s now gravitated to the apex of her legs only makes it ache more, so she lets her dark impulses take over as she turns to face him.

“You.” Emma tangles her hand in his hair and crashes her lips against his without a semblance of finesse. She wanted to kiss him weeks ago, and not just because she thought she was dying either, so she seizes her chance now as she releases the need she’s been quelling for so long. Thank god being possessed by an alien infection takes away her pain receptors because when she swings her leg over his lap to straddle him, she doesn’t feel anything except Paul’s hardness pressing into her center. “I want you, Paul.”

She blames it on their earlier sparring match that, under any other circumstance, might be considered foreplay, but it doesn’t matter now because she and Paul are together forever, the pain of their past lives vanished because they’re in charge of this town. Nothing like a private celebration to start their new lives together.

“You already have me, angel, body and soul. What else do you want?”

Emma kisses him again and fiddles with the knot in his tie, prying it fully loose from around his neck. “I wanna fuck you. Hard. But I also want you to fuck me too.”

“We can make that happen. Which would you like first?” Emma smirks and tosses his tie off the bed before unbuttoning his shirt. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

“Well, this woman wants you to quit talking and take your pants off.”

He smirks as Emma undresses herself. “Your wish is my command, my dear.”

Her clothes leave her body in a frenzied, touch-starved rush. It’s borderline embarrassing how wet she is from just kissing and barely touching him, but she doesn’t want to stop to internally humiliate herself. Emma’s body sings when she connects with him, and Paul throws his head back as he grips her hip for dear life.

“Oh god, Emma,” he sighs. Feeling truly complete for the first time is indescribable, and while he can’t put words to it, he knows it’s fucking glorious.

She rides him in earnest, her hands braced on his chest, and she takes her sweet time letting him fill her completely before she moves up. Paul can’t help himself from releasing the most desperate noises, a mixture of gasping breaths, long strings of praise, and the occasional moan at varying pitches. As much as Emma loves him being vocal (it’s a pretty big turn-on for her to see just how wrecked he can be,) she wants him a little quieter in case someone were nearby. She doesn’t know they’re completely alone, but Paul doesn’t stop her when she slips her fingers inside his open mouth.

Blue spit leaks from his mouth as Emma swirls her fingers around. Paul obediently sucks on them, looking up at Emma silently questioning if she’s pleased with him. She strokes the side of his face and grinds down harder; he takes it as an affirmative. With his other hand, he reaches up and circles his thumb around her nipple. She takes her slime-covered fingers out of Paul’s mouth to play with the opposite one, and she’s a damn work of art. Emma finally lets some of her composure crack as the pleasure builds inside of her, breathy high notes and sultry moans leaving her lips.

“That’s it, love. Take what you need.”

“God damnit, Paul…”

He barely hears her curse but responds instantaneously. “What is it? What do you need?”

“So… close,” she chokes.

Paul stills her hand on her chest with one of his own. He slows the frantic pace of her hips and looks up at her, the electric blue of his eyes darkened with lust. Quietly, he says, “Show me how to please you.”

Admittedly, Emma hasn’t had such an eager pupil in bed, and she takes it as a compliment that he’s willing to learn how to bring her the most satisfaction rather than assuming he knows what’s best for her. She drags the hand covering her own down her body and gives Paul the hint to rub at her clit. Her breaths become choppy and shallow as her hips stutter; she just needs a little push. 

Paul suddenly sits up and scoots back on the bed to bring his lips down to wrap around her nipple. His teeth drag jolts of pain, but his tongue is there quickly to soothe them away, and Emma loves the perfectly timed dichotomy of his touch. She’s almost there, but it isn’t until he looks up at her with those soft, crystalline eyes that she shatters, gripping his shoulders as she comes in deep pulsing waves.

She looks at Paul in the throes of her orgasm and whispers, “You’re such a good boy, Paul.”

He swallows thickly, blushing blue at her praise as his heart swells, stifling his urge to come from the tone of her voice alone. He’s only ever wanted to please Emma, and for her to acknowledge that he’s done a good job makes him smile.

When her pleasure subsides, she kisses Paul, running her hands through his disheveled hair. She smiles into his greedy kiss and nips his pouty lower lip.

“Feeling better, babe?” Emma nods and latches her lips onto his neck as she grips him tighter.

“Still not done yet,” Emma mumbles.

Her hips start swiveling in circles again, and Paul groans, already impossibly hard while still buried inside of her. “Yeah? What do you want?”

In frustration, she makes a low sound and wraps both arms around his neck, stopping momentarily to look at him. “Come on, Paul, you know what I want.”

“No, I don’t believe I do. You’re gonna have to tell me.” Emma widens her eyes, expecting him to fill in the blank, but he’s not taking the bait. “It’s just you and me, Em, you can say it.” He kisses up and down her neck dripping trails of blue slime down her chest. Husky and desperate, he commands, “Tell me, baby.”

Without hesitation, Emma lets the words slip from her mouth. “Fuck me.”

Paul captures her bottom lip between his teeth as he kisses her again, rolling her onto her back. He almost lines himself up to re-enter her when she shakes her head. Confused, Paul stops to look at her and nearly asks her if she’s changed her mind, but she answers his question by turning over on her stomach. Oh, he sees now.

Electricity surges up her spine when Paul wraps his hand around her hip and pulls her back against him. He enters her in one smooth thrust, and holy hell, he feels _good_ from this angle. It felt empowering to ride him, and he felt like heaven inside of her, but the way he stretches her is completely dirty, unhinged, and fucking incredible.

Paul had always been tactile, she noticed, always saw him fidgeting or playing with something in his hands, and it’s really a godsend for them both when he takes his other hand and curls it in her hair, tipping her head back. Emma lets a long moan leave her mouth as her eyes screw shut, Paul’s thrusts speeding up with her exuberance. He grips the curve of her hip tighter and groans when he catches sight of her with blue goo dripping from her mouth and onto the bed.

He leans down and nips the shell of her ear to tease her with a laugh. “You’re making such a mess, pretty girl.” Instinctively, Emma reaches up to wipe her mouth on the back of her hand, but when she does, Paul’s hand shoots out from her hair and grabs her wrist to lick the slime from her skin. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. God, you taste so fucking good.”

Emma grips the sheets beneath her, and her walls tighten around his cock. He’s so unrestrained, primal and sexy, and she’s unashamed to let him see and hear her pleasure. “Fuck, yes please…”

She comes alive in his arms, a warm spotlight filling her innermost core as another orgasm builds inside of her. He grabs back onto her hair and sucks on her neck. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

“What are you talking about? You already have,” she says breathily. 

Paul hums and chuckles. “I didn’t mean from your mouth.”

Emma moans with a smile as she recognizes what he means. “Oh, you can do that any time you want, no permission necessary.”

“Don’t worry, I will. One day, I’m gonna eat you out for hours, make you come on my face over and over again…”

“Jesus Christ, Paul…” She wouldn’t mind that either. “Keep talking like that, please.”

So, he does. Croons in her ear about how lovely she is with her head thrown back in pleasure, her nails anchoring herself to the sheets so she won’t float away. Lavishes her with praise of her body, her voice, every last inch of her. 

“My darling, my treasure, my queen… You’re mine, Emma. And I’m yours.” With another pull of her hair and a smack on her ass, Emma comes, Paul following shortly behind.

They breathe unevenly as their respective orgasms subside, but their hearts have never felt more at peace than with each other. He pulls out first and flops on his back beside Emma, who’s blinking slowly as she stares at him with a gentle, messy smile. A vision flashes through Paul’s mind of what it will be like with Emma at his side for what he assumes is forever. Waking up next to her, running Hatchetfield together, maybe they’d get a dog. Does she even like dogs? Doesn’t matter right now because she’s cuddling up next to him and nuzzling into his neck, and life (or the afterlife) is exactly as it should be.


End file.
